


Quills & Bottles

by Palecat



Category: Summer Camp Island (Cartoon)
Genre: Delirium, Dreams, Drinking, Fever Dreams, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Horror, Illusions, Mental Breakdown, Near Death Experiences, Night Terrors, Nightmare Fuel, Nightmares, Phobias, Potions, Potions Accident, Sleep Paralysis, Temporary Amnesia, Trippy, bad trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-28 23:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18766840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palecat/pseuds/Palecat
Summary: Hedgehog finds a potion bottle on the shelf at the library. It helps her relax at first, but its true affects on her mind soon become clear.





	Quills & Bottles

Libraries are supposed to be quiet. I was always happy that they were. I curled my index finger to my thumb, tucking the nail of my pointer into a tight grip. Light, refracting through the potion bottle from the tabletop lamp, bathed my vision. Polished redwood held my cheek like the palm of an approving parent I never had. It supported my head, gave me rest when I wasn't able to carry myself any longer. My mind was quiet, and still. I was at the library. My thoughts were supposed to be on the words I read, not the floating imprecisions of life. I relaxed my thumb, and with a crystal clear tone, my nail impacted the side of the bottle in an impactful flick.

The whole library sang with the sound. I wondered how many hertz it was. The liquid within jostled ever so slighty, the movement of it quickly settling so I could see the smooth waves radiating with from the movement of the glass. Under its own weight it stopped vibrating within just a few seconds, and all was still once more. For that time though, I wore a smile. My finger hurt slightly from how hard I'd smacked it against the glass, but the tone brought me peace.

Only a few drops of this potion had put my mind completely at ease. Calm reigned in my mind, though I knew I wasn't completely myself in this state. All facts were in place for my situation. I had stayed out past bedtime, and the doors had locked. I was stuck in here with just what I had in my backpack. A bit of food, though I had just eaten when I came here. Now it was well past midnight. Weariness had taken me, but still I wanted to be awake for this tranquility. Too much time had passed, since I'd been this happy. So calm, so peaceful.

My eyes wandered up to the bottle again, having gotten fixed on the table while I had been lost in my own thoughts. Maybe a drop or two more would make my sleep better. It already was making me drowsy after all. It'd carry me nicely through my sleep. Lifting my head from the table was a task I could hardly muster, straining to sit up fully. My arms felt as if they had lead weights strapped to them. I could just barely curl my fingers around the cap, and pull it off with a tug. The cork let out a hollow note as the pressure released, and I retrieved my teaspoon from my bag again.

My hand wasn't shaking at all, but tilting the bottle was a slow process. Before long, a teaspoon of crystal clear liquid sat before me, and I brought it to my mouth. Metallic cherry flavor rolled over my tongue like a tidal wave as I sipped it down, then licked the spoon clean. My hands found the cork once more, and I crammed it into the neck of the bottle with my thumb. A soft moment passed. My arms rested once more on the table. Once more, the library was quiet.

The chair felt like it was pulled out from underneath me. The carpet met my temple with a muffled impact, the earth feeling like it was twisting underneath me. I couldn't focus my eyes on anything in the distance. All I could see in detail was the texture of the carpet so close to my face. In my mind I was crawling to try and get back into my chair, but my body stayed put there on the floor. My fingers twitched, muscles in my arms trying to provide enough push to lift myself from the floor. Nothing worked. I stayed planted where I was as reality faded to black, like a fog rolling towards me from all directions.

* * *

Consciousness hit me like I'd been dropped flat on my back. My limbs were spread out around me, a fan overhead spinning slowly. Its blades lethargically danced in a circle around the centerpoint. I was spread-eagle on the floor, fur pushed into carpet. I projected myself sitting up, looking around. No good. My limbs didn't move. Where was I? The books on the shelves in my periphery me that I was in the library. The only part of me responding was my eyes, which scanned my surroundings closely. I was truly in the library, I knew that much. What time was it?

My eyes leapt to the watch on my left wrist. All I could do was hardly twitch my fingers, but if I struggled to see, I could just barely make out the hour. Sometime around noon. Once more my eyes turned to the ceiling, hurting a bit from straining to see to the edges of my vision. Why was I here? Had I come here to read again? That didn't make too much sense given the time of day. I was supposed to be practicing my piano about this time of day.

The only sound I could hear was the ceiling fan buzzing, high in the air overhead. I didn't know why I was there, or why I couldn't move. Confusion punctuated every thought I had. Not only was I not supposed to be here, but I was in a position I wasn't supposed to be in. Nobody just went around, laying on the floor. Alone with my thoughts, I focused on anything else I could hear. Nothing. My vision was so limited, hardly able to even move my neck or head to scope the area out. I tried calling for help, but all that came for my lips from a slightly accelerated breath, like I had tried blowing out a candle without changing the shape of my lips. All they did was twitch slightly.

My mind was running so fast, while my body refused to respond. None of my muscles could do anything but twitch slightly in a pathetic attempt to locomote. Time felt like it was speeding up as I laid there on the floor, immobile. Soon enough rain began to tap on the roof of the library and the windows. A storm was rolling in. One of the big swells that came off the ocean over the island. At least I wasn't outside. A rumble of thunder sounded, making me ever the more grateful that I wasn't anywhere near the doors or windows.

The clock struck five. Then ten. Then three. Each time felt faster. How long had I been there, anyways? It felt like I was starving. I wanted to hear the voice of anyone. Oscar, Max, or even Susie would be a welcome relief. Anyone that could maybe help me to Betsy or Alice. As the clock struck six my stomach was tying itself in a knot. Then, it began to rain harder. A drop of water smacked me on the nose, causing my whole face to twitch slightly in response. It was the most movement I'd been able to make, and it was involuntary.

The droplet ran down my nose, a bit of it getting inside, where it ran into my sinus. It tasted like metal and cherries. I could just barely swallow the amount that got to the back of my throat as another smacked my nose once more. Then another. I tried so hard to move my face, but nothing happened. The roof was leaking whatever strange liquid it was raining. All that I could think was that if I couldn't move soon, I might actually drown from a leaking roof. I swallowed again, and again, unable to keep up with the water.

Soon I was coughing what I couldn't swallow back up into my moth, but I couldn't move my chest or torso much. I was left half-heartedly breathing hard every few seconds, while I felt my lungs burning in pain. Still more water came. Tears brimmed in my eyes as panic took over. All I had to do was move out of the way. Every problem could be solved by shifting my face a half an inch to the left or right.

Darkness began creeping into the edges of my vision as the pain grew more intense. My lungs felt like they were full to bursting, despite still demanding I breathe to help myself survive. Which would just let in more of this awful tasting water. The last thought I had before I passed out was how pathetic it would sound, Susie trying to explain how this happened to my Dad.

* * *

I was upright in my chair, choking and coughing. I dragged in air like it was water in the desert, doubling over as tears rolled down my face. My forehead hit against the desk's surface, my whole body shaking from head to toe. It hurt to breathe, but at long last I could. What had that been? Where was I? My eyes fixated on the bottle, hunger and thirst clawing at my stomach. It was a potion, so it could be anything. It was left out in the open at the library though, so it couldn't be harmful, obviously. My hands grasped it, and I yanked the cork out with my fingernails, nearly breaking one in the process. 

The metal tinted flavor of cherry hit my lips, causing me to instinctively gag. It tasted like drowning. My brain instinctively rejected it, but my stomach screamed at me to drink. The baser need won out in the end. Tipping the thing back, I gulped down four mouthfuls before taking a breath. The bottle still felt full, so I came back for more. Then again, and again. Soon my head was spinning. My stomach still felt empty, tears starting to run down my face again. I just wanted the thirst to go away. This was all I had.

The fifth time I tilted my head back, I tilted the whole chair back with me. I panicked and sprawled out sideways, causing me to land on my hip. The bottle clattered across theh floor, spilling the contents everywhere. Everything was spinning, but my body wouldn't let me move again. All of the potion I drank came back to me at once, and my sense of balance did a flip while I was stationary on the floor. Potion drooled lightly from my lips, eyes wide as I watched the ceiling fans overhead. A heard an owl screech outside. It was about midnight. The last thing I thought was how foolish I was before once again, the world faded out.

* * *

Christmas morning. I was starving. A big breakfast with me, my Mom and my Dad. As my father passed me on his way to get coffee he tousled the fur on my head. I couldn't help but smile. I heard my Mother comment something about him missing work, but he told her it was okay. It was a holiday after all. He made me a bowl of cereal and set an apple beside me, before we all began to eat. Everything was right.

My mouth closed around the spoon. It tasted bad. Like metal, cherries, with chunks of ashes in it. Every plate of wheat that had been so good to me for years were horrible. I was hungry though. My stomach hurt. I pushed my bowl towards my Dad, and went to bite into my apple. I nearly gagged. Burned plastic wrapped around chalky soap was all I could taste from the fruit. I set it down, spitting the mouthful of it I had taken out into my cereal bowl. My stomach growled. I saw the turkey on the counter, ready to be put into the oven for dinner tonight. My eyes lit up, hands tightening into fists. My parents exchanged worried looks.

My body practically autopiloted itself over to the tray the turkey. It was fresh from the butcher, not a store bought one. I could traces of the broth that sat at the bottom of the tray. With speed I never had before, I sank my clawed hand into the turkey and tore out a chunk, red-tinted liquid being thrown across the kitchen counter. My stomach screamed for the wet chunk of meat in my hand, and I was so happy to oblige. Without any hesitation I crammed it into my mouth, past my incisors, as long and jagged as serrated knives. A groan of satisfaction escaped my lips, which broke out into a laugh. I smile split my face, almost ear to ear.

With glee I had never felt before, I began to tear off chunks of meat, jamming them into my gullet. Broth and liquid fat foamed at my lips. Manic giggles began spilling from my mouth any time it wasn't preoccupied with chewing and swallowing, occassionally coughing with how fast I was going. Eventually I got down to the last bit of meat, stripping it off a rib and dangling it over my muzzle, then dropping it directly to my throat, swallowing. Only a minute had passed. My eyes shut, euphoric laughter exploding from me. I tilted my head back, my whole body being consumed by my own glee.

A sob met my ears. My happiness didn't die immediately, opening my eyes to look behind me, towards the unknown source. Max stood, paralyzed in terror, while Betsy stared, eyes fixated on what was in front of me. Tears were rolling down her face, lip curled as her whole body trembled. My hands felt... sticky. My laughter died, stolen away like warmth taken by the winter wind. The force holding my lips in a grin fell away, the strings tying the corners of my mouth to my ears being severed. My eyes slid along the ground, then to my hands. Red, sticky, gel-like flecks of fat stuck underneath my claws. I pulled my vision forwards again, towards where Betsy was staring.

Oscar was laying there, unmoving, claw marks all over.

* * *

I was awakened by someone pouring water down my back. I shot up, gasping and looking around. My heart was going at a thousand miles an hour. Violently shaking, I took in my surroundings. I was at the library. It was about midday. I was sitting in the chair at the desk, while Susie was standing to my left, staring me in the face. She had a bottle of water in one hand, having just poured a bit of it onto me to rouse me from my slumber. In the other was the potion, tightly corked. Her eyes said everything.

"It's all in your head Hedgehog. Go back to your cabin... it was just a dream."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are immensely appreciated. This is partially based on a personal experience.


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